


The Silence Sings Volumes

by AshesToStars



Category: Coco (2017)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 17:58:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14878571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshesToStars/pseuds/AshesToStars
Summary: Ernesto has completed a dark task, but can he live with the guilt that it might bring?





	The Silence Sings Volumes

Silence would have been a welcome companion on this journey. 

 

Ernesto had hoped that carrying out the final steps of this dark deed would have been filled with silence- something that would be utterly foreign to him given his profession of noise and music. But it was not silent. The sounds were all much too loud, instead. The heaving of his breath could very well have been just as loud as the ringing of a bell, and the thudding of his feet against the dirt pounded like great big drums in the night. And of course, the noise that racketed off of the skidding, dragging body he was pulling against the ground was not at all any quieter... Especially when that body belonged to someone who was once a friend. Ernesto paused, standing up straight to stretch his spine as his eyes peered around thoughtfully to assure the promise of isolation was still covering his tracks. He reached a hand up to wipe the sweat from his brow, before glancing at Héctor's unmoving form from over his shoulder. For a moment, something in his gut tightened- like a snake coiling into itself over and over until all that remained was a stack of colored rope in the midst of an unsuspecting walkway. Waiting to strike at any moment and constrict him until he could not breathe. Ernesto took a deep breath, closing his eyes tightly and once more reaching to wipe the sweat off his brow. It was unclear whether or not he was sweating from the heavy lifting or if the sweat came from his skin because of the crime he had committed, trying to drown him for a sin that he knew he would be condemned for one day.

No, he could not be swayed by things like remorse. He had no reason to feel bad for what he’d done- he had to seize his moment and Héctor had placed himself in between him and the moment that he needed to take hold of. His amigo had become an obstacle, and he had needed to jump that hurdle before he stagnated and withered into nothing. Héctor’s words were like magic, and Ernesto was the magician. He had to weave those lyrics for the unsuspecting crowd and bring himself up to the fame that he so righteously deserved. He was the voice of the group- the face, the social king next to a hermit-ed wordsmith that cared more about going home than he did the cause they set out here for in the first place. 

Ernesto took another breath, letting the air fill his lungs and trying to keep his head on a single thought. You have done nothing wrong, Ernesto. The thought is a comfort to him. A mal tiempo, buena cara. He straightened his face out, unfurrowed his brow and put on a brave face. This would all be over soon- Héctor knew very little people in all honesty. He had some friends, but his wife was his life. And nobody had to know that he was gone- it wouldn’t matter one bit when he became famous. These words in this notebook, and this guitar... it was all his now. His words to be strung along by his guitar. 

Just as he was starting to feel better about the whole situation, Ernesto felt his face fall once more when he heard something in the distance. The fear of being caught shot through him like an arrow, and he felt Héctor’s corpse leave his tired hands as it dropped to the dirt. Ernesto’s eyes went wide as he swung his head around, frantically searching for the source of the sound, but was utterly addled when there was nothing around that could have made any sound. He stilled his breath, holding it in like cigarette smoke as he listened for the sound again. For a moment, all he could hear was the howling of the nighttime winds and the hushed sound of his own pounding heart. But as a moment ticked by...and then another... the sound came back. It wasn’t the shuffling of feet or the shouts of someone who had seen the task he was about to complete- but it was something far, far more menacing. The sound of a guitar... soft...unassuming against the moonlight. Ernesto breathed out, squinting his eyes against the fog- ... Wait a tick. Had there always been fog? If there hadn’t, there certainly was now. He couldn’t see who was playing a guitar- he couldn’t even see the guitar. But he recognized that tune- one that he wished that he didn’t. It was a song that Héctor had been working on for so long- one that he apparently had been writing for that family of his. Recuérdame, his pride and joy. Why would that song be playing- and who would be playing it??

Ernesto took a step, and felt that his legs were suddenly quite heavy. Like he had something attached to them, or as if someone was trying to pull him back down to the ground right next to the body he was planning to bury. He shook the thought, and took another step forward. As he continued moving forward, the fog started to move against his sides and clear forward. But as soon as it had just enough for him to see where the sound was coming from, Ernesto wished that he hadn’t fought against the weights attached to his feet.

It was Héctor. The idea of it was crazy- completely impossible, but it was unmistakable. The form of his former best friend was standing, guitar in his hands and fingers plucking at the strings in a calculated motion. He took a step back, widened eyes gazing in terror at the man before him. In a swift attempt to rid himself of the vision, Ernesto glanced back at the body of Héctor lying limp on the ground behind him, but when he swung back around to see if the living version was still playing eerily before him, he found that it was now much closer. Ernesto shouted in surprise, and nearly fell backwards, just barely catching his balance enough to remain steadied.

“Héctor- how- dios mio, how are you-” Ernesto spoke frantically, feeling as if his voice had up and abandoned him, leaving ice in his throat in it’s place. “Where did you come from?!”

There was no response. His mouth did not open to reply- there was no shout of accusation nor movment to suggest hostility or revenge. Instead, after a second of nothing changing, the hand that held the end of the end of the guitar held it out slowly. He lifted his head slightly, so that his eyes would meet Ernesto’s and he simply dropped the instrument on the ground haphazardly. Ernesto glanced at the guitar, now flat against the ground, before he raised his eyes to meet Héctor’s, and found that keeping the gaze was too difficult. The expression of betrayal, those eyes that swam with the disdain of a broken friend reminded Ernesto of his disloyalty. The feeling was so heavy against his shoulders that they began to ache.

“Please, Héctor... Mi amigo-” The two worded phrase was met with a twitch- a clenching of a fist at Héctor’s side. “- Please, do not hurt me. I am-” Ernesto paused, taking another step back, his hands raising to clutch against his own chest like a fearful child. “Lo siento, Héctor, I’ve made a mistake!” His voice broke, any semblance of calmness lost as his pitch changed to one of horror. This was a punishment- a karma that he was not prepared to face. But Héctor said nothing. He just stared, hatred burning in his face and fist now clenched at his side. The hand that dropped the guitar moved back to his side, and he stood stiffly, coldly watching Ernesto as he trembled and fretted over what to do. 

Ernesto hesitated, awaiting some kind of reply- but nothing would break the quiet. He kept switching between holding his breath and heaving, getting everything out of his lungs only to bring all the fog back in. The silence was killing him- Héctor wouldn’t say a word- he wouldn’t even move. It was making him paranoid- it was making him angry... it was making him feel GUILTY. Ernesto sucked a breath in through his teeth.

“What do you want from me, Héctor, please-! Just tell me what you want! Lo siento, lo siento, fue un accidente!!” Ernesto exclaimed desperately, falling down onto his knees, desperately digging his nails into the dirt. He felt suddenly very weak... even though Héctor hadn’t touched him at all it was as if somebody had punched him over and over in his gut. “It was on an impulse, I thought it was the right thing to do! I wanted to live in the day- seize my moment! I was blinded by fame, por amor de Dios, tenga compasión!” He shook, visibly quaking on the ground as his eyes remained widened and on the ground, avoiding that piercing stare at it had already rendered him nigh useless on the floor. 

“Stand up.” The voice was so sudden, cutting into the noiseless panic Ernesto had paralyzed himself in. When Héctor said it, he had brought his eyes up to look at him dumbly, unsure if he had actually heard him right. “Stand up.” Héctor repeated, his voice unchanging. Ernesto scrambled to his feet, the fear of his impending comeuppance leaving him completely obedient. Héctor gently lifted his hands up in front of him, slow and zombie-like. Ernesto was confused when he put his hands against his chest- and then shoved him backwards lightly. He blinked at him, the alarm still clear along with the confusion. Héctor shoved him again, and Ernesto figured he’d just do what he thought was wanted of him. He turned around, and started to walk. Every few steps, he would feel a light shove forward. 

When Ernesto realized where they were going, his face paled, and he nearly stopped walking, but another cold shove coaxed him to keep moving. “Héctor-” He started, but shut his mouth tight when the sound of his voice was met with a much harder shove forward. After what felt like- and honestly what could have been- an eternity, Ernesto found himself staring downwards at a big hole in the ground. He knew why it was here- for he had been the one that dug it earlier that night. He glanced over his shoulder at Héctor and found that the look of loathing was stronger now. It was as if he was attempting to land a knife directly in between Ernesto’s shoulder blades using nothing but his eyes. He didn’t have to say anything- he knew why Héctor had brought him here. It was only more evident when the man he had killed’s arm raised to point at the hole with purpose. No words had to meet Ernesto’s ears for him to understand the message;

This was no accident.

 

It was not an act of impulse- something done on a whim in the blinding light of stardom. This... was a calculated decision. He had picked the poison. He had readied his lies. He had dug his grave. There was nothing Ernesto could say to pretend that this was not something he had fully been preparing for. He hung his head downward, and felt the hot sting of regret crawling along his spine. Ernesto couldn’t find anything to say- there was nothing but a soundless tension. What else could there be? He had breached his faith- he had broken his trust- he had killed his best friend. He had KILLED his BEST FRIEND. The thought shattered the walls he built around himself and shot him hard in his brain and stomach. He felt the realization springing some kind of leak- and Ernesto found that tears were welling in the corners of his eyes. Finally, he found that his lips were not sewed shut enough for him to open them. “I-” Before he could utter another syllable, Ernesto shrieked as Héctor’s hands were on his back once again and he was propelled forward with a rough shove. He stumbled forward, hands going out in some kind of desperate attempt to balance himself- but his feet left from under him as he collided face first with the grave that he had created. He pushed himself up by his palms, and sputtered, coughing out dirt and drool before he turned rapidly in his place. 

His heart dropped as he found himself gaping, jaw dropped upwards at the form of Héctor glaring downwards at him with a shovel in his hand. “Héctor, por favor, don’t leave me here-” But his words didn’t mean anything to the ex-friend. Héctor glanced at him once more, and then dug the shovel hard against the ground to start burying the man that had poisoned him.

Ernesto gasped sharply as suddenly, the noises and fog and vision around him were gone. He found that he was standing above the grave he made for Héctor, and the body on the ground was entirely still. He looked around, panting and wheezing to himself in the dark. It was all some twisted nightmare. He placed a hand on his chest and applied a little pressure, trying to get himself to calm down and ease his rapidfire heartbeats. Once he was calm, he picked up Héctor’s body and peered down into the grave- which now seemed quite endless. The taste of dirt was still heavy on his tongue... but his mind had been made up the moment he had dripped poison onto Héctor’s tongue. He could not turn back now- no matter what the consequence would be one day. As clear as the sound of bells ringing in his ears, leftover from his haste... he knew what he had to do. 

And it was silent to him when Héctor’s body hit the bottom of the darkness.


End file.
